


Five Times Arthur Comes, And Then One More

by Zetaori



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, Multiple Orgasms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-13
Updated: 2011-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:46:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zetaori/pseuds/Zetaori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Eames makes Arthur come, and one time Arthur is really not able to come any more and does anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Arthur Comes, And Then One More

**Author's Note:**

> written for this inception_kink [ prompt](http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/9327.html?thread=16707951#t16707951): How many times can Eames make Arthur come in one night? A whole fucking lot.
> 
> If you want to read/comment on LJ, you can find the story [here](http://zetaori.livejournal.com/4614.html).

**1.**

When Arthur hears the sound of keys in the lock, he tries to stop his heart from beating twice as fast, his breath from becoming quick and shallow, and his body from tingling, but he fails miserably. Instead, he gets up and walks, _not runs_ , he tells himself, towards the door.

The door falls shut and Eames tastes just like Arthur remembers, like old cigarettes and sweet candy.

He can feel Eames stumble backwards, but he can't let go and then Eames is pressed against the door and Arthur pushes his leg between Eames'.

Eames moans approvingly and after the soft thud of luggage against the floor, Eames' arms are around him, and his tongue slides against his.

"I've waited so long," Arthur groans into the kiss, surprised by the sheer amount of need in his voice.

Eames lets one of his hands slide down towards the small of his back, pulling him closer and letting their groins meet.

Arthur gasps and starts to rub himself on Eames' thigh.

This is not how it should be. It should be baths and roses and silk sheets. But he can't bring himself to care.

"I've missed you," Arthur whispers, and Eames' hand that is not busy coordinating Arthur's desperate movements against him cups his face.

"I can tell," Eames answers.

Arthur suspects he meant it to sound mocking, but it's just as hoarse and undone as Arthur feels, and he can feel his dick jerk in response.

Arthur closes his eyes and his head falls down on Eames' shoulder. His mouth locks on Eames' neck, kissing, sucking, and he's not able to stop before leaving marks. 

Eames gasps in his ear.

Arthur pushes up.

It feels so good.

"Oh Arthur," Eames says, and Arthur comes in his pants.

It's pure release and hot waves all over his body, and he shudders and lets himself fall into Eames' arms.

"Oh God," Arthur whispers. He should be embarrassed, he should apologise, he should feel sticky and uncomfortable, but he's never felt better.

He opens his eyes to see Eames smile at him, smug, happy and a little bit tender. On his neck, a red flaring mark stands out against the collar of his white shirt.

"I think we both need a shower now," Eames says and Arthur can feel himself blushing.

 **2.**

Arthur carefully peels off his stained briefs and tosses them into the laundry basket.

He can hear that the water is already running in the bathroom, and he takes one moment to realise. Eames is back. Eames is naked under his shower. Eames is waiting for him.

He picks up some pieces of clothing that are lying around. Most of them are part of Eames' trail towards the shower, but some of them Arthur has left there, not caring enough to clean when Eames wasn't there.

But now he is, and Arthur packs away some ties and one sock, shoves away his violin case with his foot, and finally throws the wrappings of two chocolate bars into the bin.

When he casually glances into the mirror on his way to the shower, he can see himself smiling, and with that smile he steps into the shower.

Eames smiles back at him. "Hey," he says, his voice soft and low.

"Hey," Arthur answers.

He lets his gaze flicker over Eames' broad shoulders, the red spot on his neck that Arthur put there only a few minutes ago, and the slightly longer-than-usual stubble on his cheeks.

Eames looks good. Just like Arthur remembers, and better.

He can feel his blood flow down _again_ , and Eames grins suggestively.

"You want another round?"

"Um," Arthur says, because no of course not, but somehow, well, yes.

"You're greedy tonight," Eames continues, his hands on his shoulder, turning him around.

"You like it?" Arthur says. His chest is pressed against cold tiles while hot water pours down on his head. At his back, there's the reassuring weight and warmth of Eames' body.

Every touch feels new and at the same time familiar, and Arthur shudders.

"I love it," Eames whispers in his ear, barely audible over the rushing of the water. "But I'm not sure you know what you're getting yourself into."

Eames lets one single finger slide down his spine, and Arthur seriously gets hard again.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, you'll see," Eames promises. Arthur knows he shouldn't let that go. These kind of insinuations usually end up in disaster and embarrassment, or get him killed.

But Eames' finger pushes down, and then _in_ and Arthur loses all train of thought.

He pushes back, bracing his forearms against the cold tiles and just enjoys the burning sensation of being stretched.

Then one hand is around his cock and Arthur grunts shamelessly.

He's dizzy from the rush of water on his skin, the silent but deep breathing of Eames in his ear and the sweet warm tongue at the nape of his neck.

He can feel his orgasm building up. His hips jerk between Eames' hands.

Eames holds him tight and quickens his pace, letting one finger slide in and out of him, and Arthur starts to clench around it.

"That's it, baby," Eames whispers.

And Arthur bites down on his own arm, muffling his groan as he comes in Eames' hands, which keep him upright and stroke him through it until he's done.

For a few minutes, Arthur enjoys just staying there with Eames' arms around his waist.

When he's able to stand up again, Eames is there to clean him off with gentle strokes of soaped hands. Arthur leans back against the wall and closes his eyes.

"So how are you?" Eames asks finally, turning off the water and reaching for one of Arthur's fluffy white towels.

Arthur laughs. "I'm fine."

"You mean you're fine now," Eames corrects, rubbing the towel through his short hair. "You didn't seem fine when I came in."

Arthur sighs, but he feels too good to be upset about Eames' smugness.

"Just imagine," Eames starts, and snatches another towel to wrap it around Arthur, "how fine you'll feel later."

"Later?" Arthur asks.

"Later," Eames repeats and gently rubs the towel against Arthur's sides.

  
 **  
3.**

Arthur collapses on his bed, his hair still wet and the towel draped loosely around his hips. Eames falls down next to him, making the mattress dip and Arthur roll on top of him.

"Hello again," Eames says, and Arthur smacks him in the ribs.

He tries to roll down from him, but Eames holds him tightly in place.

"I missed you too, you know," he says.

Arthur manages to wriggle out of his arms and falls down heavily on his chest.

"I'm exhausted," he announces, his voice muffled by the pillow.

"You said you missed me," Eames replies, dangerously close.

Arthur cranks open one eye to see Eames towering over him, his weight completely supported by muscular arms, and his face showing one of his infamous spectacular pouts.

"Yeah," Arthur says.

Eames lowers himself down further, and Arthur can feel his erection pressing against his ass through two layers of towels.

"You know what?" Arthur says, because he feels a little bit guilty. "If you want to, you can fuck me. I don't mind."

"Oh, you don't mind?" Eames mocks and finally lies down on him.

Arthur can feel the air being pressed out of his lungs, and he's really missed that.

"I bet I can make you come again," Eames says, his lips touching his left ear.

Arthur groans. "I don't think so."

Eames shifts to get rid of his towel and tugs open Arthur's, placing a warm palm on his ass.

"I'll prove you wrong."

"Go ahead."

Eames takes his time.

Arthur closes his eyes and tries not to fall asleep as Eames places kisses all over his back.

It feels good, but it's not enough to get hard again.

And then he can feel the head of Eames' dick pressed against him, hard and slick, and he wants to protest about not getting the preparation, but then Eames pushes in with one long, smooth movement, and Arthur gasps in surprise.

It never went in so easily, but then again, he has never been so relaxed before.

"You hard again?" Eames says, and although he tries to sound completely calm about it, Arthur can hear the hitch of breath when he moves just a little bit.

"No," Arthur says.

"Don't worry," Eames says and starts to move. "I promise I'll make you come."

Arthur squirms under him into a comfortable position. "We'll see."

"Just trust me."

Arthur doesn't know what to say, so he just concentrates on the intoxicating feeling of being completely satisfied, and at the same time very carefully fucked.

"How long can you last?" Arthur hears himself asking. Not that he cares.

"As long as it takes," Eames says confidently.

"Okay," Arthur says, and it is more of a whimper than intended because Eames chooses this moment to roll his hips.

Eames sneaks a hand under his body and starts not exactly to stroke, just touch, and Arthur hisses.

"You lied to me," Eames chuckles. "You're totally hard again."

And he's right. Arthur buries his head in the pillow.

"Aw, don't do that to me," Eames chimes. "Come on."

His hand tightens only slightly, still careful with the sensitive skin there, but it's enough to make Arthur gasp, get up on his hands and knees and allow Eames to finish what he's started.

"Just like that," Eames encourages, his voice so deep that Arthur suspects he won't be able to last very much longer.

"You have to know," Eames adds and takes a deep breath before continuing, "that I can make you come as often as I like."

"Is that so?" Arthur winces and pushes himself back.

Eames moans. "Yeah."

"And how often will that be?"

Eames' fingers tease around the head of his cock and he changes his angle, and. Oh.

"You'll see."

Arthur starts to tremble. He tries to shy away from the increasingly demanding hand around his cock, but at the same time he needs it so much.

"God," he groans. "I think I'm … really … coming."

"Told you so," Eames says, and his next thrust makes little bursts of light explode behind Arthur's closed eyelids.

Arthur wriggles and squirms, desperate for something, anything, and Eames gives it to him with deep, gentle movements and a few hard tugs of his dick, and then the familiar warmth coils somewhere deep down under his stomach.

Eames just goes on and on, letting Arthur climb further and further upwards until he think he's going to shatter, urging him on with breathless come on come on come on, and then finally he can let go and release washes over him while he comes in eager squirts over Eames' hand and the towel.

Eames comes quickly after him, emptying himself with long thrusts before he collapses on him.

Arthur can feel Eames' heart pound frantically against his back, before he calms down, pulls out and rolls on his back.

Arthur turns around and lets Eames clean him with the towel.

He has the feeling he'll never be able to move again.

He closes his eyes when Eames cradles him against his chest, and he might have fallen asleep a little bit.

 **4.**

Arthur wakes up to the sight of a very naked Eames straddling him.

"How long have I been asleep?" he murmurs, disorientated, blinking against the soft light of the bedside lamp.

Eames glances at the clock. "Half an hour, maybe."

Arthur groans and tries to turn on his side, but Eames is still sitting on him.

"What?" he grunts hoarsely.

Eames bows down to kiss him. It's gentle and caring, and Arthur cannot help but to respond and let his tongue slide over Eames' lips.

Eames hums in the kiss, sending electric sparks all over his body.

"I'm not done with you yet," Eames answers as soon as they part.

"You're not?" Arthur asks, helplessly.

"No," Eames repeats and starts to rub himself on him.

Arthur flinches, but it doesn't feel unpleasant. Not at all.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

Arthur looks down and considers it for a few seconds. "Okay."

Eames smiles and without breaking eye contact, he reaches for the bottle of lube lying next to him, presses some of it on his fingers and touches Arthur's dick.

Arthur hisses, but mostly because of the cold. "What are you doing?"

Eames stops for a second, and shoots him an exploratory look, but apparently he likes what he sees because he smiles reassuringly and continues spreading even more lube on his already very hard dick.

"I'm making you come again."

Arthur opens his mouth, but he's not sure what to say and closes it again.

"I've already prepared myself," Eames adds matter-of-factly.

Arthur stares at him. "What?"

"You heard me."

Arthur makes a choked little noise at the back of his throat that he would find embarrassing if he was able to care.

Eames shuffles into position and starts to lower himself.

Arthur thinks about how they've never done this before. Not that he's asked or anything, it just never came up. He thinks about pressing into Eames, being enveloped by his warm and pliant body. He thinks about Eames' eyes full of want, his voice begging him to fuck him.

Arthur pushes up. Eames moans shamelessly and slams down.

They stay like that for a while.

Arthur breathes and digs his fingers into Eames' thighs. Now he's actually quite glad he's come three times before, because there is no way he would be able to control himself otherwise.

"I want to see you come undone," Eames says, not even whispered or gasped, just like that, sitting on Arthur's cock and looking into his eyes. "I want to see you blush and pound into me and arch your back off the mattress as you finally come into me."

Arthur wants that too. Really. Very much.

He says that and Eames laughs and lifts himself up, just a little bit, and slams down.

 _Fuck_ , Arthur thinks. Fuck.

Eames does it again and it's nearly too much right there.

"Eames," Arthur says, surprised by the hitch of urgency in his voice. "Eames."

"I know," Eames says, breathlessly. Arthur watches Eames' tongue dart out to wet his lips, and then he looks down to Eames' pounding hard cock.

Eames leans forward to support his position and Arthur pushes up into him, and thinks that maybe that's all he'll ever need.

A few thrusts of his hips later, Arthur is on the verge of coming.

His hands reach for Eames' cock, wrapping around the familiar weight of it, for a second surprised by the scorching heat emanating from there, and after a few strokes, Eames comes all over Arthur's stomach.

Arthur lets himself pound up into the shivering and shuddering mess above him, arches up and comes with a loud cry that drowns out Eames' gasps for air.

The sheets stick to his sweaty skin when he falls back, and he feels boneless, languid, satisfied.

Eames climbs off him and and shuffles away to reach for the towel, before Arthur stops him. He grabs for his wrists and pulls him into a kiss.

"You liked it?" Eames says.

"Yeah."

Eames chuckles, a lopsided grin visible only for a second before he moves away to finally clean them.

 **5.**

"Just one more time!"

"Easy for you to say," Arthur responds, but he already feels his resistance melting.

"One more time. For me," Eames says, his eyes pleading.

Arthur reaches up and lets one finger glide over warm red lips, soft stubble and the still visible red mark from, what, one hour ago?

He stretches on the sheets, his limbs cracking from strain, but he feels good. In fact, he feels very good. "Okay."

Arthur has no idea where this is going when Eames leans over him and lets his tongue trace along the rim of his ear, but he finds he doesn't really care.

Eames' tongue caresses the carefully shaven skin at his cheek and continues to travel over his jawbone towards his other ear. From there, Eames moves down over his chest with open-mouthed kisses, only slightly brushing his nipples.

When Arthur involuntarily shudders at the touch, Eames returns to let his tongue travel around  one nipple at a time, teasing before finally sucking it into his mouth.

Arthur tries to arch up into the prickling sensation, but Eames presses him back down with flat palms against his ribcage.

"Turn around," he says and Arthur rolls over heavily.

Eames nudges his legs apart to sit between them, bending down for broad swipes of his tongue over his spine, meandering between the shoulder blades, but unerringly making his way down.

Suddenly all of Arthur's consciousness seems to be focused on the cooling stripes Eames' hot tongue leaves on his skin, and he keeps his eyes shut and watches Eames' patterns reappear behind his eyelids.

And then Eames' tongue slips down between his cheeks, and the sudden bolt of pleasure makes him jerk so violently that he nearly throws Eames off.

"Woah," Eames says, holds his hips in place and repeats his motion.

Arthur presses his head into the pillow and lets the sensation crash over him, wave after wave.

Eames' tongue swirls around, his lips touching the sensitive skin, and then he pushes in and Arthur moans. Loud.

Eames lets his tongue slide out, dip in again, trace around the hole, and then he starts to lick.

Arthur remembers one of the last times, he doesn't even know which one it was, and how Eames has come into him, and he groans when he realises Eames can taste himself there.

Eames stops to say, "You are so fucking close."

"I'm not," Arthur says, confused.

"Oh yes, you are." Eames' voice rumbles through him.

And suddenly Arthur can feel the hotness of his painfully hard cock press against his stomach and he shifts back to meet Eames' tongue.

He doesn't care how it must look to Eames, or feel, as he shoves himself onto his tongue, urging it deeper and deeper.

And suddenly his fists clench in the sheet, his body starts to shake and he comes right there, coughing helplessly against the pillow while Eames' tongue slowly fucks him through it.

 **+1**

Eames sneaks one hand under his hips and gently nudges him around.

Arthur flops on his back, just lying there, exposed and still shaking. He can feel drops of sweat dry on his skin. It tickles, but he can't lift a hand to scratch.

Eames slides down and places wet open-mouthed kisses around Arthur's hipbone.

Arthur yelps as Eames' stubbles accidentally graze over the head of his cock. "Eames!"

Eames stops moving and glances up. "What?"

Arthur props himself weakly on the elbows to look down. "Don't you think it's enough?"

"No," Eames says gleefully, and Arthur falls back down with a huff of frustration.

"Trust me," Eames says. "This is going to be the best orgasm of your whole life."

But Arthur is not going to come again. He knows it. It seemed impossible the last two, probably even three times, but now there is just no way. He can't. He can't even get hard any more.

Eames chooses this moment to take his soft cock into his mouth and Arthur hears himself squeak in a very undignified way.

It hurts. At first. But then he remembers that Eames said to trust him, and he lets him go on.

And under gentle sucking and red hot flaring pain, he can feel himself getting hard again.

"Eames," he repeats faintly, but he doesn't know what to say next.

He looks down. Eames looks up. They stare into each other's eyes for what seems like hours.

Arthur remembers seeing those eyes for the first time, remembers them haunting his dreams for years until he finally managed to stop running away and just stay, and he remembers them light up before falling shut when they first kissed.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he pushes Eames' head back down.

Eames complies with a throaty groan and sucks him in, hollowing his cheeks around him until he is completely hard again.

The pain slowly turns into something different, a constant pull in his stomach and white sharp eruptions of sensual overload tumbling along his nerves.

Eames licks his way over the shaft, tracing the rim of the head with the tip of his tongue and then goes back to sucking him into his mouth.

Arthur tightens his grip on Eames' head, and with his other hand, he reaches back to grasp the bedpost. His eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth opened in a silent scream.

"Eames," he whines. "I don't think …"

Eames makes a low, soothing sound around him, and Arthur tips his head back, overwhelmed by the vibration.

Arthur can feel the edges of his vision darken. He thinks he might pass out, which would be more of a relief because this is all too fucking much. He finds himself unable to finish a single thought.

All he knows is he has to come again, to get his release from this burning, sweet, tumbling agony.

But he can't. He can't. _He can't._

Eames lets his cock slide out of his mouth, continuing the stimulation with his hand. Arthur isn't sure if that feels less or more.

"Look at me," Eames says, so quietly that Arthur perks up just to make sure he's said anything at all.

Arthur lets his eyes stray over Eames' wet red flushed lips before he returns Eames' intense gaze.

The pace of Eames' hand quickens. "Come on," he whispers encouragingly.

Arthur groans in frustration. "I wish I could!"

His stomach turns, and he can feel a cramp forming in his arm where he clutches the bedpost so hard that he's afraid he'll break the whole bed.

"You can," Eames says, and bends down to lick around his head, his eyes still fixed on him. "I know you can."

Arthur presses his shoulder into the mattress, arching upwards into the soft caress that feels like fire on his skin. "I can't!"

Eames moves up his other hand from where it has been stroking his inner thigh to cup his balls. Arthur gives a choked cry and tries to spread his legs further. In response, one nail gently scratches his perineum.

His whole body is tense, ready to snap any moment. All of his muscles start to twitch. His legs are shaking. He can feel tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

"Please, baby," Eames says, his voice hoarse and strained, sweat dampening his forehead, "I love you. Just come for me."

And Arthur comes.

He wants to shout and scream, but all he can manage is a very loud sob and then something that sounds like a cough as his body flinches, jerking upwards and at the same time back away from the touch, and Eames' mouth is around him, his tongue pushing him further and further.

Arthur can feel tears streaming down his cheek. He keeps pushing Eames down on him, and he just keeps on coming and coming, his body shuddering with the frantic desire for release, and Eames just keeps on sucking and sucking.

With another broken sob, Arthur arches up as his body finally squeezes out the last droplets it has to give, and Eames sucks them out of him and keeps on swallowing long after Arthur thinks he can't take it any more.

Eames keeps sucking and licking and teasing, and Arthur keeps on coming and sobbing and begging until he falls back with a soundless, desperate whimper.

"I love you too," he whispers as Eames' arms close around him and everything goes black.


End file.
